Category: Loss and Heartache

Our real life horror story

WARNING: Do not read if you get grossed out easily. This may also be triggering for those who have experienced loss or have had traumatic pregnancy experiences.

I’ve been bleeding for four weeks now; I’ve had 7 ultrasounds. In some ways, I’ve almost gotten desensitized to the large gushes of blood or color changes that prompt immediate ultrasounds and doctor’s visits. But I don’t think there was any way to be prepared for the real life horror film we lived this morning.

I woke up a little after 6:30 and started washing my face. Immediately I felt several gushes that were quite different. I sat down on the toilet to find that I’d bled through the bottom half of all my clothes, down my leg and onto my foot. And worst of all, there was a giant clot in my pad. 

I flung the door open and screamed for Seth to wake up. I said, “Something came out! Can you come in here?” He came running in and we both stared at a sea of red. “Is that one of our babies?” I asked. He was pretty still and gently grabbed my shoulder and said, “It’s so big.” He didn’t think it was our babies and hoped it was just the hemorrhage passing. Just in case, Seth went to get a paper towel and a ziplock bag to save it for the doctor. In that short time, I passed 3 more clots. I couldn’t see them because the toilet water was so red but they felt as big as the first one. 

I continued to sit there on the toilet, terrified to stand up because of what else might fall out. So I sat there as we called the doctor’s after hours emergency line. My hands were trembling and covered in blood as I explained what happened and he took down the message to have a doctor call me. To say aloud that I passed four tissues as big as baseballs, was horrifying. Seth just collapsed face first on our bed, still within listening distance. The doctor on call advised us to see if we could get an ultrasound first thing when the office opened an hour later or else go to the ER to check the babies and monitor my blood loss.

We scrambled to get out of the house. Seth woke up Jaclyn and took her to Mom and Dad’s while I quickly got cleaned up. I packed an extra set of clothes in case I bled through mine again. I brought a towel to sit on in the car. Apparently this is how I need to live for this season.

The ultrasound experience was a little different. I was relieved to see both babies as it confirmed that I did not bleed one of them out. But then the seconds felt like an eternity while we waited to find their heartbeats. They were both doing great! As we moved back to the waiting room for the appointment with the nurse practitioner, we were feeling a bit more encouraged. 

Until all of a sudden I started having terrible stomach pain, I sweated through all my clothes, and I was very woozy even while sitting down. I asked Seth to walk me to the bathroom and as soon as I stood up, my vision got dark and fuzzy and I was terribly weak. A nurse quickly ran to my other side and they got me to a bathroom. Seth really couldn’t leave my side for fear of me fully collapsing. When we opened the door, three nurses were waiting with a wheelchair and got me into a room to lie down.

I felt pretty terrible as I laid on the table. Soon the door opened and we were surprised to see my doctor and the nurse practitioner walk in; I should’ve known something wasn’t okay then. My doctor shared that there are now two large hemorrhages; they’re unsure if it’s the same one that broke in half or if there is a new one. Both are bigger than the measurements from yesterday, almost double. I’m pretty sure I dropped the F bomb at that point because how was there still so much in there when so much fell out of me just hours before?

The doctor shared that she is more concerned now that the hemorrhages are growing so quickly and it could be really bad for our babes. There’s a chance that there won’t be enough room for them to grow or that the babies will lose connection with my uterus until the placentas are fully formed, which is pretty soon. 

We confirmed that there’s no way for them to remove the hemorrhages. They shared that there’s literally nothing to do but wait and monitor. However, they wanted to do some labs and monitor me from the blood loss and almost fainting. So I was admitted to the hospital for several hours. In that time, the power completely went out so we we’re just chilling in the dark for a bit. Eventually we learned all my labs came back fine. I’m not anemic. I didn’t need blood. I did need some fluids though. We were able to come home early afternoon.

So here we are. Neither of us have processed the emotional aspect of the news we learned today. One of my friends described it perfectly as agonizing anxiety that we’re walking through. It’s literally just a waiting game for the next gush of blood or passing of tissue or bleeding through my clothes and almost fainting. Then more waiting to find out if our twins are going to make it. We are determined not to lose 2 more babies. And we have zero control over any of it.

Pregnancy after loss- Part 2

It’s nearly impossible for me to explain the effects of losing multiple babies on the way you raise the children you get to meet on this earth.

The majority of the last three years of life have been trying to grow our family, navigate grief and multiple pregnancies, while in the middle of COVID. I’ve chosen to be very conservative in my personal response to it as that is the only thing I can control. 

I birthed my first rainbow baby when the doctor’s offices looked like ghost towns and no one spoke to each other in the eerie silence of the waiting rooms. Seth and I were alone for 5 days in the hospital with Jaclyn because no one was allowed to visit. 

I worried so much about Jaclyn making it into this world, I hadn’t even thought about how we would raise her as a pandemic baby. She hasn’t met many people in her two years of life in attempts to keep us as safe as can be from COVID especially when the strains were more aggressive and at its peak.

In those two years, we’ve lost 2 more babies, had 2 more D&Cs, and are now 23 weeks pregnant with twins. If I could’ve made it happen, the three of us would’ve lived in a bubble. And a lot of folks think we have. But the large majority of it is my trauma response to trying to protect my babies, whether in utero or in our home.

I’m well into the 2nd trimester and developmentally feel some peace that our babes will be okay. However, the PTSD of my other losses hits me out of nowhere and often cause me to spiral- much of it still prompted by COVID.

I’m terrified of getting COVID again, while pregnant with twins. The super illogical part of my brain goes to worst case scenarios such as losing our boys or going into super preterm labor and not knowing if they’ll make it. The more rational part of me warns those closest to me that if I catch it and become any more miserable than I already am, everyone better watch out. You see, carrying twins is not for the faint of heart- I am miserable 97% of every day. 

I also don’t want to waste my sick days by actually being sick. Our country does not truly support parental leave. It is complicated and if you are granted leave through your work, you often have to use your sick or vacation days for it to be paid. I desperately want as long as possible with my boys after they’re born, and I need all of my days so that some of my leave will be paid.

So when you see me still masked wherever I go or the fact that I’m still virtually attending church, this is the context. When I don’t accept your invitation out somewhere or invite you over to our home, its because most people I know do not mask as I do and I can only control what I can control. However, we will happily entertain visitors who agree to mask in our homes.

I will likely go back to therapy in the near future to work through my PTSD of our losses and how that’s affecting my parenting, but in the meantime, I’m doubly hormonal and growing two tiny humans while raising a two-year old and working full-time. This is the best I can do for now.

Pregnancy after loss

On my birthday this year, my period came back, and I was ecstatic for this gift my body gave to me. Weird, I know. But this meant we could start trying to get pregnant again after our third and most never ending miscarriage. A few weeks passed, and I followed my OB’s directions like clockwork. I took a pregnancy test as soon as I could according to the directions and at the faintest sight of two lines, I began taking progesterone. We found out I was pregnant at 3 weeks and 4 days. I hadn’t even missed my next period yet. I had four days of pure bliss and excitement until I scheduled my ultrasounds. Then panic set in and reigned for four weeks.

I can’t explain the worry, fear, and dreaded anticipation I had of losing this new baby. We were already in a difficult month of 2 due dates that passed with no babies and then my Mamaw passed away. Honestly, the way I told my parents that I’m pregnant was, “No I can’t be a pallbearer at Mamaw’s funeral because I’m already pregnant again.”  What a sad, lame pregnancy announcement. I had also learned in previous bloodwork that I have the MTHFR mutation and need a different kind of prenatal vitamin that has metabolized folate. The process of understanding that and researching what I should be taking was a big stressor. 

After having three meltdowns at work one Friday afternoon, I decided to call my OB to ask what my options were for mental health. I had already been seeing my therapist weekly or biweekly, so the next step they suggested was to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. 

The meeting with the psychiatrist provided lots of options to help me feel better. She shared that I was in a long period of adjustment with severe anxiety, mild depression, and PTSD from the other losses. We discussed frequency of continued therapy, returning to EMDR therapy for my PTSD, and medicine. I was really struggling to decide which direction would be best for my mental health and protect this new little life inside of me.

I wasn’t convinced that I would feel better without medicine. I woke up each morning and could feel the unhappiness in my bones. I really wanted to get back into EMDR, but I was at a pause until I made a decision about medicine. Since both alter your brain chemicals, it’s not best practice to begin meds and EMDR at the same time. 

Finally, I just decided to wait on everything. Adjustment disorders are temporary, and we had a couple more weeks until the ultrasound, so I decided to invest in a natural calming supplement, L-Theanine, and hold off on everything else until we had some answers about our new little babe.

After what felt like an eternity, it was finally the morning of our 7 week ultrasound. With our history of loss, they would let us come in as early as 6 weeks, but there’s a good chance the baby wouldn’t be seen yet, so no need for potential unnecessary stress. 

As I watched the nurse do a pregnancy test on my urine, my mind transported me back to my second loss where my body was no longer pregnant by the time I got to the doctor’s office only hours after I started bleeding. I made her look at pictures of my positive test to prove I wasn’t crazy.

As we sat in the ultrasound waiting room, my mind went to our first pregnancy where we were so blissfully ignorant of the possibility of loss. We didn’t even understand that we were looking at an empty gestational sac on the screen until they verbally told us there was no baby.

Then my mind jumped to last November when again, there was no baby and then 2 days later the baby appeared, and then a week later, the baby had never developed a heartbeat.

I’m pretty sure I don’t breath while we wait. There have been so many awful memories in that waiting room and they all come rushing back to me each time we’re there. We’ve seen nearly all of the ultrasound technicians. By the time we’re in the room ready for the nurse to return, I’m in almost full blown panic attack with my arms over my head so I can breath and not throw up.

But this time, with no warning at all, she told us we’re having twins! Seth and I just looked at each other in shock and disbelief, and I asked her if she was kidding. Then I scream-sobbed, as I usually do, but this time in joy and thankfulness. I was so loud, I’m pretty sure the whole waiting room heard me. I’m not sure how long I cried, but by the time I looked up, I realized I hadn’t looked at the babies at all and told her she would have to show them to me again.

For the most part, I’ve been able to ride out my blissful shock. However days after our ultrasound, I started bleeding and cramping… a lot. I was convinced we’d lost both of them.  I was home by myself and called the doctor in a panic. They called me in for an emergency ultrasound and Mom drove me down while Seth left work to meet me there. I cried while waiting for mom but then became a robot because I knew what was coming. In my mind, I was already trying to plan out when we would have a D&C and how much work I would miss for physical and emotional recovery. Seth wept quietly in the waiting room. 

Thankfully, the babies were great. We saw their heartbeats and they looked perfect. In the ultrasound we saw that I have a 3 centimeter long sub chorionic hemorrhage, which isn’t too abnormal in many pregnancies. There’s not much to do except my body passes it or absorbs it. 

I thought I knew what was coming that day, but I was wrong. It is so easy to panic after loss. And now, there’s two precious little lives to worry about. My therapist encouraged me to hold on to the truth that I know until we learn more at next appointments. Our truth is that at our last ultrasound, everyone was alive and healthy. So I’m clinging to that for now.

February

My heart has been achy in anticipation for the month of February. It’s also as if my body can sense the calendar and has started grieving all over again.

February 3, our little nugget, our first baby, would’ve been 2 years old. We felt like that would be our first son. That same day, Jaclyn will be 20 months old.

February 14 is our little beanbag’s due date, our third baby. I would’ve been almost 38 weeks pregnant now. We would’ve had a new nursery ready and would know if Jaclyn would have a little brother or sister.

February is the month we can start trying again after my most recent miscarriage in November. That feels like a lifetime ago. It’s weird to think that my body is freshly recovered from all the crazy trauma of that loss.

February is also the month that Seth and I will celebrate 5 years of marriage. Goodness the highs and lows we’ve had together so far.

February is a short month and will be full of a variety of emotions. I’ll just cling to the truths I know and believe.

Promises by Maverick City Music

There was Jesus by Zach Williams

Battle Belongs by Phil Wickham

Triggers

I went to the eye doctor today and ended up spiraling with confusing PTSD. I was sitting in the exam room waiting for the doctor, and I kept expecting her to come in with bad news about the baby. However, I was completely aware that I was at the eye doctor and that there is no baby. But my body didn’t care. It was in full anxiety-mode, and I was terribly sad.

During the intake, they asked if my medical history had changed. I said yes, that I’d had a D & C. She said, “We have the one from 2019. Was there another?” I answered, “I had one on Monday, and I had one on November 9.”

Monday. I had surgery on Monday. And today is Thursday. And I’ve worked the last three days and now I’m at the eye doctor and it’s like none of it even happened. But it did. I thought I’d be better emotionally this time because the initial grief of it all has passed, but simply being at a doctor’s office triggered me terribly.

Then the eye doctor comes in and asks, “How’s the family? How are the kids?” Plural. She didn’t mean anything by it. But my heart was grieving and I was trying to convince my body that I wasn’t at the OB receiving bad news, and all I could think is that we have one, single living child.

And then I cried the whole way home. I was not prepared for today.

The Loss That Never Ends

I’m still “pregnant.”

Oct. 27- 8 week ultrasound with a yolk sac and no baby
Oct. 29- Follow up ultrasound and a baby appeared.
Nov. 5- Follow up ultrasound. Baby hadn’t grown and had no heartbeat.
Nov. 9- D & C
Nov. 23- Post op appointment and positive pregnancy test
Dec. 7- Another very positive pregnancy test
Dec. 8- Ultrasound to check for residual tissue and hCG bloodwork
Dec. 10- hCG bloodwork
Dec. 17- hCG bloodwork
Dec. 20- D & C #2

It’s been almost six weeks since my D&C and tomorrow morning, I’ll have another one where they’ll go in with a scope to look around my uterus.

At my post op appointment, I tested positive for pregnancy. Two weeks later (one month post op), there were still two bright red lines. I was brought in for an ultrasound to see if there was any residual tissue. The ultrasound showed many blood vessels clumped together in my uterus that is not typical unless you’re pregnant. No actual leftover tissue was found.

That day, I learned that when I had Jaclyn, they tested the placenta. The results showed that a tiny piece of the placenta had grown into / was stuck in my uterine wall. Something called placenta accreta. It obviously passed because I knew nothing of it.

The theory now is that my uterus has a natural tendency to absorb things. This baby didn’t have placenta but perhaps whatever was growing is stuck in my uterine wall now.

My two options were to do regular bloodwork to see if my hCG levels (pregnancy hormone) decrease and let it all pass on its own or do another D & C procedure with a scope to check out the uterine wall.

My hCG levels are going down. 313 to 242 to 104, but not pregnant is 0-5. I’m still a long way off. I don’t want to be fake pregnant anymore. My hormones are all over and affecting many areas of life. My deductible is met. There really isn’t an ideal choice here, but ultimately I decided to continue with the procedure again. This scope is a common exploration for folks who have the accreta history and who have had recurring loss. Plus, regardless of if they’re able to remove anything else, I’ll know we did all we could to try to get closure.

The continuation of this loss is very isolating. When we learned our baby hadn’t grown and had no heartbeat, it was a shared loss. Now that the baby is gone, this is only related to my body, and I feel very lonely in trying to cope with it. I don’t know anyone else who’s gone through these little details. Emotionally, I feel terribly alone.

Throughout this never ending loss, we received my genetic test results back which initially caused more anxiety than relief as I am a carrier for Tay Sachs, a horrific children’s disease. Praise the Lord, Seth is not so Jaclyn and future babies are not at risk. I also learned that I’m mildly mthfr deficient, which could be a factor in our losses, so I’ll need to up my folic acid intake in future pregnancies.

There were also several moments of false hope, that there was still a baby. In my head and in my heart, it was our little pumpkin. One evening in particular I was convinced that maybe there was some miraculous mistake through it all, and I sobbed for 45 minutes. From the doctor, there was suspicion that it could be a new pregnancy as she looked more closely at the ultrasound.

I was crushed with each moment of hope that quickly came crashing down that there is still no baby. I’d worked really hard during our initial two weeks of waiting to not believe that our baby would be okay because I knew it would be harder if we got bad news. I didn’t anticipate needing to keep my guard up for the next month after the D&C. So my heart has been quite achy. There is no baby in there; I just need my body to realize it.

Answers, Trauma, and Therapy

Jaclyn would’ve had a little sister.

The genetic testing returned last week in time for my post op appointment. Our baby died because of the Trisomy 16 chromosome which is incompatible with life. This particular test also shared an unexpected gender reveal that I’m still in shock over. In fact, I missed it completely until I got home and was reading over the paperwork better that evening.

We’ve never known this detail of our other babies. Knowing it now makes my heart ache even more. I really wanted another girl, so Jaclyn could have a sister close in age like me and Hannah. If you know me well, you know how much I love my little Herman and how I’d love for Jaclyn to have that relationship with a sibling.

My doctor feels hopeful with this result, that we were unlucky once again and that there is no inherent risk moving forward. That is an answer, but to be deemed unlucky three times feels stupid. The word fluke has become a trigger word to Seth. The answers don’t feel sufficient.

So I asked them to go ahead with some blood work. At this point, I’d just like any more peace of mind, clarity, or ruling out as possible. We’ve been given the green light to try again as soon as we’d like once my body gets back to its regular cycle. We shall see.

I started therapy this week with a woman who specializes in pregnancy loss and anxiety. It was only our intake session but I feel pretty hopeful. I hope to have more tangible support through grief and learn any coping skills that can snap me back into reality to be present in my day to day life. I hope to be able to work through and release the anxiety and worry that I hold every day. I hope to be able to overcome my PTSD again. I hope to not feel so broken.

Before we knew of our loss, I told Seth that I don’t know if I will ever not feel broken again. Even with as far as I’ve come since the burglaries, it broke me in a way that feels like I can’t fully come back from. I feel this to be even more true now as my PTSD from the burglaries has resurfaced since this third miscarriage. I don’t understand the details and nuances of the brain, but I can only guess that the brain can be triggered from any trauma and then reopen former trauma.

I’ve had a terrible time sleeping the past couple of weeks in fear that someone will break into our home and specifically get Jaclyn. I have difficulty falling asleep. I hear any tiny noise and fixate on it. I check her monitor countless times each night. I really just want her to sleep with us but then none of us would get any sleep.

Most of my anxiety now revolves around Jaclyn’s safety specifically. Every night I plead for the Lord to keep her happy, healthy, and safe. I’m terrified that she will get COVID again and that we’ll have no control of how it affects her. I know I take social distancing and masks to the extreme even after being vaccinated x3. We do not hang out with many folks due to vaccination status, consistent mask usage, etc. I am desperate to protect my girl.

This particular loss of our daughter has affected more than I realized, and it’s difficult to prioritize what to work through first.

I should know how to grieve by now

I keep thinking I should know how to grieve by now. But goodness, what a foolish thought. Tonight, I was anxious to turn off the lights because I knew I wouldn’t sleep. Instead I tried to lay there and cry quietly but my sobs overtook me. I’m not sure if I woke Seth up or if he hadn’t fallen asleep yet. I’m not sure, he might’ve been crying too. So we laid here in sad silence until this wave passed.

Tonight the word disappointed keeps coming to mind but it’s not the right word; it’s not strong enough to describe what I feel in my heart. We had so much excitement for this little babe. Jaclyn would be a big sister at 2 years old. We thought this one may be a girl too. We just really felt positive and hopeful this pregnancy, and this whole journey really blindsided us.

In the hardest moments, it feels like there’s nothing to look forward to now. I know that’s not true, but it’s hard to fight when grief hits. I told Seth we should decorate for Christmas this weekend because it’ll bring some extra happy into our home. Then we’ll have the whole holiday season ahead of us.

Yesterday, 24 hours post D & C, everything felt back to normal, and that devastated my soul. My maternity clothes are packed away. I asked Seth to throw out our family of four pumpkins from the front porch. The new shadow box is on the wall, and my new miscarriage jewelry has been ordered. I really haven’t been in pain or had much bleeding since my procedure. It feels like I should physically hurt more. I know that sounds weird, and I’m thankful for an easy recovery so far; it’s hard to explain. I guess I kept saying how I wanted closure but when I actually feel it, it breaks my heart.

One of my coping strategies is to talk it all out. After publicly sharing three miscarriages, I’ve mostly accepted that people mean well, they just don’t know what to say. What may be comforting to some folks, may not be helpful to others. Just some of my own thoughts below.

–Everything happens for a reason. Not everyone believes this to be true 🙋‍♀️

-You’ve had a successful pregnancy, so there’s hope that you’ll have another one. True. And miscarriage is traumatic on your body, heart, and mind. It’s terrifying to think about more pregnancies right now.

-You’ll have another baby some day. This may or may not be true. And, babies aren’t interchangeable. We wanted THIS baby that we created.

–Be thankful for your beautiful daughter. Well of course I am. I call her my tiny queen because I can’t think of any higher title on this earth. And again, babies aren’t interchangeable. We wanted THIS baby that we created.

Below are some of the more helpful responses to our losses.

–I’m praying for you. And then pray, right then, where they can hear you or read the prayer.

-This sucks. I’m so sorry you’re going through this.

-Let me feed you. When can I bring you a meal or send you a gift card? Seriously, I don’t know how we would’ve eaten these last two weeks had it not been for the generosity of friends and family.

-Let me cover you at work so you can take some time off. I was able to take this entire week off, and it has been such a gift.

-Several friends told me how strong and brave I was, and then the night of our D & C, Seth told me that I’m strong as an oak. Miscarriage makes you feel like your body failed you and your baby, like you’re weak and helpless. It is very comforting to be told that that isn’t true.

-Finally, I will never forget what Carrie Coaplen texted me. “I don’t know what else to say except the world needs more mommas like you.” That was the best response anyone has said to me in our three losses.

I really love being a mama.

Our Little Pumpkin

One in four pregnancies end in miscarriage. But for us, one in four pregnancies produced a baby. Today I made a shadow box for our fourth baby, our Little Pumpkin.

One in four pregnancies end in miscarriage. But for us, one in four pregnancies produced a baby. Today I made a shadow box for our fourth baby, our Little Pumpkin.

Soon I’ll have my second D & C at a little over 10 weeks, and my body will begin getting closure on this loss. This pregnancy has been a very wild journey.

8 weeks and 3 days

We walked into a familiar nightmare during our 8-week ultrasound. “This is the yolk sac,” she said as she pointed to what I thought was our baby’s head. “Then where’s my baby?” “I don’t see it yet.” There was no baby. We’ve already experienced a blighted ovum miscarriage before and couldn’t believe it was happening again.

The yolk sac

The measurements of my gestational sac were very close to the determination guidelines, so we returned two days later for a follow up ultrasound.

8 weeks and 5 days

THERE WAS A BABY. The ultrasound nurse showed us our tiny jellybean.

Our baby

The embryo measured at 6 weeks and 1 day, but I was almost 9 weeks. Several other measurements and timelines were not in sync and didn’t make sense. There was no heartbeat but we were told that’s okay because it’s so small. Time to wait another week and come back to see how our baby is doing.

Waiting blows.

9 weeks and 5 days

The ultrasound nurse was quiet as she measured various things. “Can you tell us what we’re looking at?” I asked. “The baby is still measuring at 6 weeks and 1 day, and I can’t find a heartbeat. I’m sorry.”

10 weeks and 2 days

We officially say goodbye to our Little Pumpkin as I opted for a D & C.

You see, I’ve had a baby bump. I’ve been in maternity clothes since 5 weeks. I regularly wear nausea bands because I feel like I will vomit all day every day. I am constipated. I often fall asleep before 8pm because I’m so fatigued. I need this physical part to come to an end as quickly as possible.

For the first time in three miscarriages, we have the opportunity to test the embryo to give any insight into the causes of our losses. Beyond that, there are options to do some more blood work on me. And even with these options, we still may never get answers.

I’ve been pregnant four times in two and a half years. I don’t have a hard time getting pregnant; I have a hard time staying pregnant. I cannot express how difficult the entire process is on my body, my mind, and my heart. With babies, no matter how tiny, I don’t think there will ever be full closure.

A few more closing thoughts as a I speak my peace:

I love my doctor and am beyond grateful to be in her care through this. I chose for her to be my regular OBGYN after she did my D & C with our first loss because of how caring and compassionate she is.

I appreciate when people acknowledge and honor this tiny life.

I need time to feel everything— sadness, anger, guilt (yes, I know, not my fault), confusion— I need to ride it out.

Grieving with a toddler is very difficult. Jaclyn can sense when Seth and I are sad. She tries to help me blow my nose when I cry or play peekaboo when my head is in my hands from crying. It’s hard to let out all the feels when you’re constantly taking care of a tiny human.

I do not believe this happened for a reason. I believe we live in a fallen world and it is what it is.

I believe the Lord has a plan, and that plan may or may not involve us producing another biological child.

Thank you for everyone who has been so uplifting in words, prayers, and in deed through feeding my family the last couple of weeks. We love you all.

Seth and I love being parents. With Jaclyn, we are the three amigos. And we’d also love to add to our family.

We will always remember you, our little baby pumpkin and the excitement we had anticipating your arrival.

Baby Beanbag

Sunday evening- positive pregnancy test. Monday morning- positive pregnancy test. Wednesday morning- negative pregnancy test. W.T.F.

Sunday evening- positive pregnancy test. Monday morning- positive pregnancy test. Wednesday morning- negative pregnancy test. W.T.F.

The last week has been a roller coaster of hormones and emotions. I don’t always take two tests but we were surprised, and that second blue line was mighty faint. For two short days, we hesitantly celebrated the new life we created together. The pain of losing our first baby will always haunt us. Nevertheless, we were excited that Jaclyn would be a big sister and have a playmate close in age. Seth had already nicknamed this babe, Beanbag.

Wednesday morning brought bleeding and cramping so the doctor’s office quickly squeezed me in. Covid restrictions didn’t allow me to bring anyone for support so I had to go alone. I was barely 4.5 weeks pregnant so as expected, the ultrasound showed an empty uterus. I did not, however, expect a negative pregnancy test in the office.

I sat there in shock, unable to look the nurse in the eyes. Did I make it all up? How is this even possible? I quickly pulled out my phone and made her look at the pictures of my at home pregnancy tests so she didn’t think I was crazy. She kept reassuring me that the doctor would explain everything.

Chemical pregnancy. The sperm fertilized the egg but for whatever reason, it couldn’t develop beyond that. Within two days, my hCG levels were nonexistent and it triggered my body to start my cycle, hence the bleeding and cramping. Just like that, I wasn’t pregnant anymore.

I sat in the room for awhile to call Seth and my mom to try and explain. I sobbed as I clarified that we had been pregnant. And then I was confused about how I could be so upset when I hardly knew that this baby existed. I eventually collected myself and went through the motions that I’d learned from the last time. At check out, I made sure they cancelled my upcoming ultrasound appointments and that they rescheduled my annual. Despite knowing that none of this was my fault, I still felt ashamed and found it difficult to look at people in the office. At least this time my mask hid my splotchy swollen face that showed I had confirmed what I had feared all along. At least this time I didn’t have to schedule a D and C.

The days that followed have been strange. After my appointment, I spent most of the day alone sitting in shock and crying. On Thursday I tried to distract myself with Jaclyn all day but anger and confusion just built up until I yelled and cried before bed. On Friday, I decided to be productive by organizing Jaclyn’s clothes and toys. I somehow didn’t realize how triggering it was to be immersed in baby items. There were multiple times I felt my chest tighten as if I were about to have a panic attack.

Miscarriage isn’t easy on the body. Grief isn’t either. I’ve felt insane multiple times a day. But then Jaclyn crawls over to me to play. Or I remember that Cammie was waiting for me outside my doctor’s office with a donut and tissues because she insisted I shouldn’t be alone. Or I get another sweet message checking in on me. Or I remember I haven’t had to cook because Elizabeth brought us a delicious dinner, Hannah took me out for lunch today, and Ashley sent me a gift card to Panda Express.

I have so many kind, caring people in my life. My family hasn’t had to bear this alone. There are so many offers to talk when we’re ready. For now, there aren’t really words. There’s just a lot of feelings that change from minute to minute. There are other mamas who have reached out because they’ve gone through the same thing. There’s the right song at the right time to remind me of God’s goodness.

I’ve now been pregnant three times in the past two years, and we’ve only gotten to meet our sweet little Jaclyn. We will try again as we want to continue growing our family. But we will always remember our Baby Beanbag.

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